


All for a Raggle Taggle Gypsy-o

by Lucky107



Series: A Red, Red Rose [5]
Category: Hell on Wheels (TV)
Genre: 19th Century, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Mischief, Nurse - Freeform, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 14:59:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9240377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucky107/pseuds/Lucky107
Summary: First he's walking and then he's running to reach the platform just as the train grinds to a halt.[Season 2]





	

**Author's Note:**

> Raggle Taggle Gypsy - The Irish Descendants - 1995

Despite having gleefully promised this, that and the other to his irritable baby brother first thing this morning, Mickey McGinnes' heart skips a beat when those big, billowing rings of smoke appear over the camp.  He abandons his post despite Sean's absence, first walking and then running to reach the platform just as the train grinds to a halt.

One by one, the survivors of Durant file out of the train car, cold and miserable.

Mickey feels sick when, among them, there's no sign of _her_.

 

As Bonnie Mae steps down from the train car, shaking and shivering, she's not looking for a friend.

Her dark eyes, cast down as a reminder to put one foot before the other, only flutter up to meet Mickey's baby blues when he calls out to her.  "Oh, thank God you're all right!"

The hug is lackluster; Bonnie clings desperately to his neck as soon as distance permits it, but fails to return his enthusiasm.  It's no secret what's eating at her when the good doctor, Frederik van der Meulen, isn't right off the train behind her.  Putting his relief aside, Mickey buries a hand into her hair while the other rubs soothing circles across her back in a lame effort to assure her she's not alone.

Not anymore.

In his mind, he makes himself that promise: Bonnie Mae will never be alone, not so long as he's alive.

They cling to one another, each for their own selfish reasons, until they're the last two people standing at the train platform.  That's about the time Sean McGinnes, having searched everywhere for his idiot brother, happens upon them.

"Mickey, I—" But his voice catches when he sees Bonnie Mae MacLeod with him.

While he doesn't bother to mask his displeasure with Sean's untimely arrival, Mickey finally let go of Bonnie so as to return to work.  He wears his heart on his sleeve when he brushes the tears from Bonnie's damp cheek and murmurs, "Welcome home, lass."

\- - -

It was never Bonnie Mae's intention to return to the sick tent upon arriving back in Hell on Wheels.  She's biding her time, trying to scrape together what money she can cleaning tables at the saloon so that she might be able to leave this place, but the collapse of the train trestle forces her hand.

Fate has a way, she realises, and she sees another patient out with an exhausted sigh.

At this rate she'll never leave Hell on Wheels.

When the tent flap opens at her back, Bonnie doesn't even turn around.  She's too quickly becoming caught back up in the ebb and flow of the life she's been trying to leave behind.  "Take a seat," she says.  "I'll be with you in a minute—"

"I, uh..."  Bonnie turns to find herself face-to-face with Mickey McGinnes and he's a mess; there's mud and blood caked into his clothes and his hair is disheveled.  He sways on his feet, toying with the hem of his jacket like a lost child, but he can't muster the courage to meet her eyes.

"Sit."

Mickey does as he's told and Bonnie occupies the spot at his side, carefully touching his face with experienced hands.  She maps out the early stages of bruising around his eye, her touch tender as to not hurt him as she assess the damage.

"Mind tellin' me what happened, Mick?"  She asks as she checks basic responses, eager to rule out the possibility of head trauma.

But Mickey's reluctant to speak.

Thankfully, Bonnie safely rules out the possibility of head trauma.  She chalks up the slur in his speech to a direct result of being flush with alcohol, but there's obvious signs of swelling just beneath his jacket cuffs.  Despite his demonstrated ability to rotate his hands at the wrist, proving that they aren't broken, Mickey moves awful slowly—two sprained wrists.

"T'was a fight," Mickey confesses before Bonnie can even confirm her diagnosis.  "With me brother."

"Sean?  He did this to you?"

Their eyes finally meet and much to Mickey's surprise, he finds concern there.  It's not pity and it's not suspicion; the look in her eyes suggests that Bonnie Mae actually _cares_.  The rest is a jumbled mess.

"Sean came by the saloon lookin' for his money, now that Durant's back, but I... I didn't have his money.  Didn't _want_ to have his money.  You don't understand what it's been like, lass—since you left, Sean's been all over that church girl an' he ain't pulled his weight on _our_ saloon venture.  Sure, I used a bit of his cut in the cards, but I was gonna make it back," Mickey says before becoming discouraged.  "Maybe Sean's right; I's no better than da.  Between the gamblin' an' the drinkin', he never did a lick of good by us."

It all comes out at once, as if a dam has broken, but Bonnie Mae absorbs it all with unyielding patience.  She accepts the worst in him as he expose it to her and she doesn't cast a shred of judgment.  Unlike when tells tall tales to the women down at the brothel, he _wants_ Bonnie to know the truth.

Even if she hates him for it.

Her dark eyes roam his face where the conflict between the boy and the man plays out like script; she sees his heart, raw and vulnerable, in those beautiful blue eyes and in that moment he swears she loves him.

Mickey doesn't say a word, doesn't know for certain that he has the words to say, and instead hooks his arm around the back of Bonnie's neck.  He leans into her clumsily and they bump foreheads, bump noses—but her hands come up fast, pressing flat against his chest to maintain a certain distance.  She stops him mid-course, so close that he can feel her shuddering breath against his lips.

He could take a chance and steal a kiss, betraying her faith, but he doesn't.  Instead he smiles a bitter, sardonic smile and lets his forehead rest against hers.  "You still love Sean, don't ya, lass?"

But Bonnie doesn't even have to say it.

\- - -

The night of the blood moon has everyone on edge.  Many have left Hell on Wheels for greener pastures in Omaha, dubbing the likely series of events a 'slaughter', and such is their right.  But many have chosen to stay behind, as well, because they have little left to live for if they should see the efforts of the railroad fall.

Among the many brave - or lost - souls to remain with the railroad is Bonnie Mae MacLeod, convinced by the better part of her heart that this is where she will be needed most if the night truly does become a slaughter.

The sun has yet to set when she leaves the sick tent, a cloth sack full of the most common and versatile equipment she can get her hands on slung over her shoulder.  With a skittish hop in her step, she detours by the darkened saloon before setting up shop in the brothel for the night.

"Mickey?"  She inquires and a shadow moving inside stands from behind the bar.  "Glad I caught you; didn't know if I'd make it before you left."

"You're still here, lass?"  He asks, turning the concern back on her.  He still hasn't gotten a chance to talk to her about what exactly went down in Durant on the morning of the attack, but he knows it's left a scar on her heart.  He didn't think she would be up for it again, especially not so soon.

"Someone's gotta be here when you come back stuck full of arrows," Bonnie teases, setting the cloth sack onto the counter beside her.  "Hear you're goin' to the front, Mick, so I thought I'd come see you off."

"I—"

"Hear me out," she insists.  "When I got here, you were the only person waitin' on me at the platform.  I was a fool to settle in Durant an' I see that now, but I... well, I never thought to tell you how important it was to me that you were there.  Guess I thought you knew.  You stuck by me, even if I haven't been so good to you."

Mickey is quiet after Bonnie's confession.  He never held her feelings against her; he was concerned that he would never see her again because he loved her—he still loves her—even if he knows she can't say the same.

And while he can't be certain, Mickey thinks Bonnie's words just now are in the same vein.  She may not love him, not the same way that he loves her, but her concern for him is sincere.  The way she smiles, a fleeting glimpse of happiness that's so hard to come by in Hell on Wheels, is reserved just for him.

That has to mean _something_.

So, he smiles - chuckles - and teases right back, "Where's me 'good luck' kiss, lass?"

Bonnie reaches across the bar and takes Mickey's rough, unshaven face in her hands.  She plants a kiss upon his cheek, tender and kind, that leaves Mickey grinning like the Devil.  "Come back to me safe, Mick.  I mean it."


End file.
